


Etiquette With Roamin

by laraanita



Category: MindCrack RPF
Genre: Buffalo Wizards - Freeform, Lords of Minecraft, M/M, there needs to be more official tags for this section omg
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-08
Updated: 2014-12-14
Packaged: 2018-02-28 15:17:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2737454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/laraanita/pseuds/laraanita
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Roamin is the only true born Lord among those who were granted titled by King Pause, the only one who truly knows what it means to be a lord. This is cast in clear light when Queen Shay comes to visit and he is the only one to behave appropriately. Deadbones decides that if he wants to get in the Queen's good books, he's gonna need a little help from the Paladin Lord.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Roamin had his differences when it came to the other lords. He wasn’t particularly flirty like Deadbones, nor was he as giving to the peasant population as Justin, for example. The biggest difference between them all, however, was that unlike these base born lords, Roamin had been born into his title.

 

Originally, his father’s holdings were small, tucked out the way on the coastline far north of Camelot. Kyburn Hold was cold, drab, and as the only son of Lord Emmons he was destined to inherit it all, marry some woman from a nearby family, and be content with his lot in life.

 

Naturally Roamin hated it. Hated the rain, hated the cold, hated the bare hills and the snow. He threw himself into lessons of sword and etiquette, dancing and seduction, music, art, anything and everything, hoping for _something_ to happen to whirl him away from the looming fate. He did not want to be a lord here.

 

His chance came when war did, and he’d never thought he’d be so happy to hop on a horse and lead the small hold’s men at arms away to war and possible death. Victory after victory, and he grew to dread the eventual end of the war and the inevitable return to his father. Fate intervened one last time, and as he was in his command tent, sharpening his sword and nodding to the other lordlings within, a page brought a singed parchment to him, pale as a sheet.

 

Kyburn Hold was no more, a smouldering ruin of baked stone and charred wood, the people burned or devoured by the great dragon Barsiddious. He couldn’t bring himself to miss the grey hills and cold halls. His heart ached a little for the lives lost, for his father and the teachers he’d known, but little else of value was lost. If anything, he felt freer than he had since he’d been told what was expected of him as a lord’s son, the world open to him. He donned the red of the paladins that day, swearing himself to the vows and taking up their symbol. Never before had he felt so filled with life and drive to follow his own path.

 

The war raged on and more died every day. But soon the day came when the fighting was called to a stop, and Roamin counted himself on the winning side. There was still one more enemy to be slain, however. He joined the swelled ranks marching on the dragon’s lair, to the unclaimed lands of the south and the dragon herself. The bravest men marched that way.

 

Only ten returned. Roamin counted himself among them, the blood of an ancient dragon coursing through his veins.

 

In turn, each knelt before the new king and swore their vows once more, rising with new titles and lands. Roamin never had to fear returning to the cold north, allowing his old lands to fall into some distant third cousin’s lap with little care for what happened.

 

He claimed new lands outside the main city they set up for the peasants to move into, a clay mountain area, hot, dry and bright, everything he’d ever hoped for when he’d been stuck in the damp, drab Kyburn Hold. A near desert was about as far flung as you could get from the north as possible. He could even step outside without layers of leather and fur to stay warm. He loved it, never happier than when he felt the hot sun on his skin.

 

He never ceased to be amazed by the other lords. It became painfully obvious they’d been nothing but peasants themselves, or much lower down on the chain of command from where they now sat. They couldn’t have been lords of any other holdings. Their very bearing gave that away, and even if it hadn’t, their manner of speech and behaviour practically declared it for the world to see. Roamin spent all of a week attempting to subtly influence them before he gave up and dropped all the subtlety he’d had trained into him all those years ago, using the same sledgehammer-to-the-head style tactics they seemed to favour.

 

To be honest it was rather freeing, and it did give him an interesting new view on certain things. He even liked the other lords. Life was free, beautiful, everything he had dreamt of. Everything was perfect. Even the lords.

 

Right up until the Queen came for a visit.


	2. Chapter 2

They met at the airport for the Queen’s arrival, and Roamin was mentally running through the proper acceptable greetings and mannerisms when she stepped onto the tarmac. Immediately he lowered his eyes and bowed low from the hips, back perfectly straight exactly as he’d been taught.

 

And then he became painfully aware that the others were still standing around, looking nervous. Not bowing at all.

 

“Bow you morons.” He found himself hissing, relief flooding him when they scrambled to follow the logical advice. It vanished when he realised that if these idiots didn’t even know how to bow for the Queen, how would any of them know what to say to her? His fear was given life not a second later when Willakers cleared his throat and immediately made a fool of himself.

 

“Oh Queen Shay, it’s a pleasure to see you here in Dong Dank! Are you drunk?” It took all of Roamin’s self-control not to smack Willakers in the back of the head. He just ground his teeth together and attempted to get through it. At least he seemed to have realised his mistake, judging from the way the beared man winced and continued on. “What brings you to Dong Dank, m’lady?”

 

_Well_ , thought Roamin, at least she laughed. _Usually that’s a good sign, right? No death penalty for insulting her hopefully_.

 

This time it was Deadbones who shifted, scooting a little closer to Willakers while still hunched over in his awkward bow. His skull tattoo covered face barely twitched as he whispered, “I don’t think that’s the one you’re supposed to use.”

 

At least someone was on top of things. It still irked him that there had been no formal introductions and the Queen was staring at a bunch of strangers whose names she hadn’t even heard yet. Where was the protocol here?

 

“Rob.” He hissed again, “Rob, you’re forgetting something.”

 

“What?” came back the hushed reply, sounding on edge and more nervous than he’d ever heard the warrior.

 

“How about some introductions? She literally doesn’t know we are you moron!” he hissed it but it might as well have been a yell for the way Deadbones, Nisovin and Justin turned to stare at him. He almost went as red as his armour. Even Steve over beside the plane shifted uncomfortably.

 

_Well, now I’m just as bad as they rest of them. Great. My tutors would be rolling in their graves, if they had any._

 

Willakers straightened up, clearing his throat again as he met the Queen’s raised eyebrow with a smile. “My Queen, would you care to be introduced to the Lords you’ll be ruling over?” he invited her closer to them. She strode over, presence more commanding this close.

 

“By all means.” The Queen waved a hand at them, expression settling back into a politely interested one.

 

“I’m Lord Willakers, uh, I watch over the Dwarven District, I’m in charge of these other guys-” With every word out of Willakers’ mouth, Roamin was more sure he was watching the other man dig his own grave. The Queen herself watched him, and Roamin couldn’t determine if she amused or insulted. “This is Nisovin.” Nisovin stepped forwards and gave an awkward half bow, unable to meet the Queen’s eyes without blushing. _Oh god, really Nisovin?_ Roamin internally sighed.

 

Nisovin mumbled out his own greeting, of sorts. The words “High Wizard”and “Grand Master” might have been dropped but it was hard to tell. The mage stepped hurriedly back into line, bright red.

 

Willakers cleared his throat, again. Roamin was beginning to think it was some kind of nervous tic. “Steve you’ve met.” Her pilot waved. “And then there’s Justin.”

 

The ‘peasant lord’ stepped up and gave a slow bow, smiling kindly. “Hello Queen Shay. My name is Lord Justin, and I currently represent the Vineyard.”

 

“And there’s Lord Deadbones. Don’t mind the tattoos, he’s not all that bad.” Willakers joked. Roamin internally groaned again.

 

Deadbones stepped up and bowed low, a charming smile on his skull tattooed face as he stole the Queen’s hand from by her side and pressed his lips to the back of it. “Your Majesty, I…am Lord Deadbones.” He pressed another kiss to her soft skin and positively batted his eyelashes at her, red eyes gleaming. “Lord of the Netherward.” Kiss. “Master of the dark arts.” Kiss. “And entirely… at your service.”

 

By the time Deadbones was done making out with the Queen’s hand, Roamin was beginning to regret showing up. The Queen hummed and retracted her hand as Deadbones straightened up, eyeing him from head to foot as he stepped back into line with a wink in her direction. Then it was his turn.

 

Roamin stepped forwards without prompting from Willakers and bowed low, a perfect bow he could almost hear his teachers crow in his mind. “Your Grace.” He held the bow for a moment as was proper and rose. “I am Lord Roamin, formerly Lord of Kyburn Hold, now Lord of the Red Hills, Protector of Brickton and Holy Paladin of the Order of the Ankh. I welcome you to the new city of Dong Dank, and apologise profusely for the behaviour and attitude of my fellow Lords. They were rewarded their titles soon after the battle against Barsiddious, and have prioritised the building and overseeing of the city and its occupants over their own education in the manner of properly addressing visiting Royalty. I pray you are not slighted by their devotion to the task your Royal Husband set them.”

 

He could almost hear the jaws dropping behind him. In fact he was pretty sure he heard Deadbones whisper “What the fuck?” to Willakers. He really should be above the smugness he was feeling but he couldn’t help it.

 

The Queen blinked at him and smiled faintly, offering her hand. He bowed over it, his hand briefly holding hers while he pressed a soft kiss to the back of it. “My Lord Roamin. I am not slighted by their devotion to my lord husband at all. As I understand it, running a city between so many of you is such a difficult task that some of your fellow Lords could not even attend my arrival. A pity, I was looking forwards to meeting you all.” She withdrew her hand and eyed him. “Thank you for your courtesy Lord Roamin. However I am tired from my journey, and irritated by the lack of familiar comforts. I would see my palace now.”

 

Roamin inclined his head respectfully. “Of course Your Grace. I believe Lord Willakers has made arrangements.”

 

If looks could kill, Willakers’ glare would have dropped him dead.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter, Deadbones approaches Roamin about some help acting like a Lord.

“I want you to teach me all the etiquette stuff.”

 

Roamin looked up from his paper, The Daily Dank, and frowned at Deadbones. He had to swallow around his mouthful of breakfast bacon to speak. “I know I’m a paladin but that doesn’t mean I can perform miracles Deadbones.”

 

“Come on, I promise I’ll learn!” Deadbones sank into the chair opposite him and made an expression that was probably supposed to be pleading but just looked very out of place on the skull tattooed features of his fellow Lord.

 

“You’ll learn, and do what, go woo the Queen? The Queen, who might I remind you is married to the guy who made you a lord in the first place and would probably quite happily unmake you a lord and give you a nice set of concrete shoes if you so much as flirted with his wife?”

 

“Oh please, he’s got a harem back in Camelot and multiple wives, she’s setting up a harem here and looking for secondary husbands-”

 

Roamin groaned and folded the paper, setting it to the side of his plate. “Deadbones, you couldn’t survive at court.” They’d eat him alive, the man did subtlety about as well as he did controlled demolitions.

 

“Court schmorte, I wanna fuck the Queen.” Deadbones looked and sounded so earnest that Roamin was finding it hard to refuse.

 

“…If I teach you, it’s gotta be everything. I can’t just give you Lordly manners and that’s it. If you wanna act like a Lord, you have to learn to eat like a Lord, dance like a Lord, talk like a Lord…” he eyed Deadbones’ black and gold robes. “…dress like a Lord.”

 

“Done.”

 

“And what’s in it for me anyway?” Roamin asked, pleased to see Deadbones fumble for ideas.

 

“Uhh…” He scratched at his white skull tattoo in thought. “How about…souls?”

 

“Uh huh, what would I ever do with a soul?” Roamin rolled his eyes. “I’m a paladin, not – not…whatever you actually are.”

 

“I could… not sacrifice your soul to my evil demon god?”

 

Roamin just gave him a look and pointedly went back to eating his breakfast.

 

“Okay okay, I don’t have anything to offer!” Deadbones all but whined. “Please Roamin, aren’t we friends?”

 

Oh god, not the friends card. Roamin dropped his fork on his plate. “Fine! Fine, whatever. I’ll do it out the goodness of my heart. You’re so lucky I’m not Willakers, he would have had you grovelling in the dirt in the Slums if you asked him for this.”

 

“Please, the old man wouldn’t know Lordly behaviours if they beat it into his beard in bright blue writing.” Deadbones scoffed, leaning over to snag a piece of bacon from Roamin’s plate, dipping it in the sauce before popping it into his mouth. He simply grinned and chewed at the put out look Roamin gave him. “So when do we start?”

 

Roamin grinned.

 

-0-

 

“Again!”

 

Deadbones moaned pathetically, closing his eyes against the onslaught. “Roamin please,” he pleaded. “I’m-”

 

“You’re what?” Roamin snapped. “You’re done? Giving up? Not on my watch. Now do as I command Deadbones. Recite the proper arrangement and use of the cutlery at the banquet table!”

 

They were three days into this tutoring and Deadbones, for all he’d promised to learn absolutely everything, was beginning to regret, well, absolutely everything. He wasn’t entirely sure why he needed to know about cutlery use and placement, nor why it would come in handy in seducing the Queen. Roamin refused to provide him with an answer. He’d also refused to answer when he’d demanded Deadbones read through a thick tome about Camelot’s houses, lineages and history. Granted, there had been some interesting stuff in there about Roamin’s family (why hadn’t they known he was a lord before the rest of them?) but little else of interest. Still, he did as he was told and poured over it at night when he was finished with Roamin’s lessons of the day.

 

To date, they’d covered history and linages mostly from his work on the book, cutlery placement, poise and mannerisms. Deadbones was pretty sure they were going to move on to introductions today as soon as he was done recalling which fork went where to Roamin’s satisfaction.

 

Finally the torture came to a stop and he was able to relax in his chair without fear of Roamin demanding more cutlery trivia from him. Roamin even sat down opposite him and sipped at his water. “You did good.”

 

“Oh thank god. What torture do you have lined up next?”

 

“Introducing yourself to her, properly. Without the slobbering over her hand.” Roamin sighed, recalling the look the queen had given Deadbones. “Even if she liked it, you really shouldn’t be doing that in full view of other lords or courtiers. Any of them could tell her husband, and then you’d have your head on a pike faster than you can apologise.”

 

“Okay, so no snogging the Queen in public, got it.” Deadbones shot his friend a grin and Roamin didn’t even have it in him to roll his eyes anymore.

 

“I can’t believe I agreed to this.” He sighed. “I really can’t…you’re absolutely hopeless.”

 

“Hopelessly attractive and charismatic, and once I’m rocking these Lordly ways of yours, I’ll be completely irresistible.” Deadbones winked.

 

Roamin covered his face and groaned.

 

-0-

 

“Okay so to start, do you even know your official title?” Roamin asked sceptically. “Because I genuinely don’t think that – what was it – ‘Master of the dark arts’ is actually in your title.”

 

Deadbones wiggled his hand in a non-commital manner. “Ehhhh….kind of.”

 

“Great.” Roamin barely refrained from groaning again. “Let’s just start with the basics, alright?”

 

“Sure.” Deadbones agreed amicably.

 

“Alright. First you’d probably start off with something similar to mine. Lord Roamin of the Red Hills.” Roamin waved his hand at Deadbones. “Your turn.”

 

“Lord Deadbones of…The Nether?”

 

“Seriously? The whole thing? You don’t live in the whole thing, doesn’t your place have a name or something?” Roamin could already tell this was going to be a long session.

 

“Not…really?”

 

“Well then think of a name and do it fast.”

 

“…The Dreadfort?”

 

“Are you _serious_ Deadbones?!” Roamin groaned and buried his face in his hands again. “What kind of pretentious fuck names his home the Dreadfort?”

 

“It’s a fortress, and people dread going into the nether so-”

 

“No, no, and no. I’m not letting you call it the Dreadfort, that’s just embarrassing.” He was only dimly aware that he sounded exactly like his father telling him off for trying to name the new hunting dog Spot, and he violently pushed the memory back into the dark corners of his mind. He didn’t need that cropping up right now.

 

“Oh please, like Red Hills was any better.” Deadbones scoffed, crossing his arms.

 

“At least mines was descriptive.”

 

“IT’S A DREADED FORTRESS! HOW MUCH MORE DESCRIPTIVE CAN IT GET?!”

 

“It’s a damn purple castle surrounded by pink rock and tree gardens!”

 

“Well what would YOU call it then asshole?!”

 

Roamin fell quiet as he thought about it for a second. “You could call it Boiling Rock?”

 

“Really?” Deadbones sighed.

 

“I mean, the whole place is surrounded by lava and maybe you don’t feel the heat but everyone else sure does.” Roamin shrugged, out of ideas. “It’s better than Dreadfort anyway.”

  
“Fine, fine. Boiling Rock and the Undercity too.” Deadbones agreed reluctantly.

 

“Undercity- Oh, yeah, I always forget that place.” Roamin laughed. “Okay, so…” he motioned with his hand, meaning for Deadbones to resume with introduction.

 

“Oh, right. Lord Deadbones of Boiling Rock, Ruler of the Undercity.” Deadbones dramatically swept his cape behind him and posed in what he thought was a rather lordly manner, apparently forgetting his lessons on poise.

 

Roamin sighed.

 

-0-

 

“Now try again.” Roamin was this close to giving up for the day. It had taken hours to work out the exact titles that applied to Deadbones and prevent him from trying to add in erroneous details he thought made him sound more impressive and appealing. That wasn’t what titles were for, he’d tried to explain. Eventually it’d gotten through Deadbones thick skull and he’d settled for the truth.

 

Deadbones drew himself up, schooling his posture and expression into the very thing Roamin had tried to drum into him over the past sessions. Straight back, arms by his sides, face perfectly schooled into a polite, calm mask with the faintest hint of a smile in his eyes. He bowed low and Roamin, for the moment playing the part of the Queen, offered his hand. Deadbones took it, sliding his fingers under the calloused palm of the paladin before him and pressed his lips to the back of it.

 

Roamin felt his temperature spike a little, stomach rolling queerly. _Oh no._

 

Deadbones’ eyes met his and his tone was perfectly measured as he spoke his well-practiced lines, breath ghosting over the skin of Roamin’s hand. “Your Grace, we’ve met previously, but I fear my behaviour last time was rather abysmal. I would appreciate the chance to overwrite a bad first impression.”

 

Roamin fought to crush the fluttering in his stomach at the tickling sensation, those lips just above his skin, the warmth of the breath from this man who half the time claimed to be as dead as the dragon he’d helped slay. Instead of answering, he gave a curt nod.

 

Deadbones quirked his lips in the faintest smile and drew back, hand tightening its light hold on Roamin’s just a fraction. Roamin had to stop himself shifting uncomfortably, forcing himself to stay still. “I am Lord Deadbones of the Boiling Rock, King beyond the Gate-” Roamin mentally sighed at the inclusion of that one, “-Warden of the Undercity and of the Netherward. Your word is my command, Your Grace.” And with that, he pressed another kiss to the back of Roamin’s hand before straightening up again, slowly letting the paladin lord’s hand slip from his. Roamin swore he could still feel the brush of his fingertips on his palm. “So?”

 

Roamin swallowed and idly scratched at the palm which Deadbones had been touching, trying to remove the lingering brushes from his skin. “I thought we agreed not to use the King one.”

 

The expectant smile dropped from Deadbones’ face and he crossed his arms. “Oh come on, no one else rules in the nether, no one else ever has! There’s no one to stand against it!”

 

“Really? You don’t think King Pause would have something to say about this?” Roamin arched an eyebrow. “You really don’t think it’s going to be an issue? Fine, whatever. It’s your head. Say it if you want.” The ghost touches finally vanished from his palm and he could drop his arms by his sides again. “I think we’re done for today anyway. Tomorrow… tomorrow we’re starting on the next section.”

 

“Oh yeah? What’s that?” Deadbones sighed, fully expecting something incredibly boring.”

 

“Dancing.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter, dancing! With links, so click em. Last of the pre written stuff, won't be updated again until I'm healthy.

Roamin was slightly nervous about this session with Deadbones after yesterday. He’d managed to clamp down on any rising… desires, as it were, at the time. He’d controlled himself until Deadbones had left, the Lord swanning out with a smirk and promise to be back to learn the art of dancing at court. Roamin had promptly hurried to the nearest bathroom available to him and thrown himself into an icy shower, snarling angrily at himself for getting carried away at a mere kiss on the back of his hand.

 

 _Well, the good news is that if a kiss on the back of a hand from a Courtly Deadbones does that to me, the Queen’s going to be falling for him in a snap_ , he thought half-heartedly, sorting through the music records he’d dragged out of storage for this session. He’d picked one of the larger rooms in his home, the polished floor perfect for spinning and dancing about on and the room was large enough that it felt almost like a true ballroom of the kind Deadbones might end up dancing in if he was to successfully woo the Queen. Truthfully, the sorting of the records was a nervous action, keeping his hands busy and stopping him from fussing about what was going to happen. _Waltz, just teach him a waltz, you can keep him practically at arm’s length and everything will be fine, you can go back to distant friendship after he’s bedded the Queen. No more hand kisses, no more spending hours arguing with him over stupid titles, no more meals telling him about forks, no more_ –

 

“I heard someone needed a dance partner?”

 

Roamin’s nervous train of thought crashed to a halt as he heard Deadbones arrive, releasing the record he had been examining and turned to see what he was going to have to deal with today. Deadbones had forgone the usual black and gold robes and almost all the assorted jewellery, aside from the necklace he always wore, the chain peeking out of his shirt, bright against his skin. Instead, Deadbones seemed almost casual in a plain black shirt and similarly coloured trousers. The cape he was in the process of removing, dramatically of course, and draping it over a chair near the door. Deadbones shot him a grin and ran a hand through his hair. “I’m ready to dance Roamin, what about you?”

 

Roamin was considering running, actually, straight back into the cold shower he’d taken refuge in last night. He swallowed and forced himself to put on a smile. _Yeah, you’re fucked Roamin, great job there, being attracted to him was not part of the agreement_. At least Deadbones had shown up in proper attire? “Good to see you’re on time. We’re doing a waltz, it’s the most likely thing to be played at court, so you should know how to dance it.” He turned away to slide a record out of its sheath, using that as a distraction to avoid looking at the rather nice way Deadbones’ casual shirt showed off his forearms and neck much better than those robes did. As he popped the record into the player, he glanced down at himself and frowned slightly. A red set of jogging bottoms, t-shirt and zip up hoodie were not the most attractive items of clothing he could have worn to this lessons but it really shouldn’t bother him as much as it was. _Well, two can play at this_ , he thought, and as the record player started up, he removed the hoodie, tossing it to one side on another chair. It was with a certain level of satisfaction he turned back to look at Deadbones and caught the other lord staring at his muscled arms with slightly widened eyes. _Yep, still got it._ He was sorely tempted to flex subtly but common sense smacked him in the back of his head right about then and he cleared his throat. “So, let’s get started shall we?”

 

The record player [clicked on](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zirn3M3ewQc) behind him and the waltz music began to play at a low volume as he motioned Deadbones closer. “First up, I’m going to show you the steps, all you have to do is follow my feet, and once you have those down, I’ll show you how to do them with a partner.”

 

-0-

 

“Come on Deadbones, its simple stuff. To the right, step-cross, half turn…”

 

Deadbones groaned and tried to follow Roamin’s movements, swearing he was beginning to get a crick in his neck from looking to the side so often. It wasn’t fair, those arm muscles were distracting him, especially the way Roamin waved them around. _Unfair, completely unfair. He knows I’m a twig, and he’s flaunting those muscles. He could probably snap me in half if he wanted to-_

 

“Deadbones!”

 

He froze, cringing. “Look I’m sorry, I’m not really getting the whole half step twisty stuff – can’t you just…” he waved his hands in place of actually speaking words, trying to express what he couldn’t with words.

 

“Dance with you?” Roamin found himself suggesting as he watched Deadbones flail ineffectually.

 

“…yeah. Yeah that’d be – that’s the done thing, I guess.” Deadbones bobbed his head in agreement.

 

“Alright.” He sighed and came over to stand before Deadbones. “I’ll lead until you get the hang of the steps, and then once you’re confident with that, I’ll show you how to lead, alright?”

 

“Alright,” Deadbones agreed again, much happier with this idea than stumbling about on his own. He did hesitate at actually touching Roamin though, fingers kind of itching to touch those bared arms. He’d known Roamin was strong of course, he’d felt more than a few of the other’s punches after all. Seeing the muscles behind that was a bit different considering Roamin was usually entirely clad in one type of armour or another. Hell, even at breakfast that first day, Roamin had been entirely covered almost in the padding that went on underneath the armour itself, barely any skin to be seen. Seeing it now was like dangling a fresh bottle of water in front of a thirsty peasant.

 

Thankfully he was spared from the moral dilemma of _to grope or not to grope_ by Roamin grabbing his hands and positioning them where they were supposed to go. The right was held firmly in Roamin’s grip and he was almost amused at how Roamin’s hand nearly hid his entirely. The left, to his delight, was placed just below Roamin’s bicep while the paladin lord’s hand came to rest against his upper back, large and warm even through his shirt. _Hahah, to grope it is!_ He thought triumphantly to himself and dared to give Roamin’s arm the tiniest squeeze. He received an odd look from Roamin for his troubles and the paladin focused on positioning his feet. Deadbones scrambled to do the same, recalling just barely the starting positions.

 

Roamin fidgeted in place for a moment, waiting for the music to reach the right moment before he nodded at Deadbones. “In three, two, one-” and he moved, Deadbones eyes widening as he was guided into the dance by unhesitating hands. Roamin was frowning at him though, Deadbones realised, and he had to scramble to pick up his feet and move where he was guided.

 

It took a few repeats of the simple basics, but it was worth the satisfaction he felt when Roamin nodded approvingly at him. He couldn’t help himself, grinning at the taller paladin lord and even throwing a wink in his direction. Roamin rolled his eyes and surprised him with an unexpected underarm spin, but as Deadbones masterfully completed it, he could have sworn the other lord’s cheeks were a little pinker than they were before. He slotted himself back into Roamin’s arms and followed his lead again, even going so far as to hum along to the repeating music.

 

By the end of the 9th repeat of the record, Deadbones was confident enough in abilities that as he was twirled back into Roamin’s arms, he said, “I think I’d like to lead this time.”

 

Roamin stilled, drawing their dance to a close and sliding his hand from Deadbones’ back till it rested on his hip. “You sure?” he asked. “You were still kinda tripping over your feet there on the twirls, miss.” He grinned teasingly as Deadbones’ rolled his eyes.

 

“Lead doesn’t twirl Roamin, I haven’t seen you twirl once!”

 

“Yeah yeah alright, you can lead.” He released Deadbones. “Come on then, King of the Nether, show me what you learned.”

 

“Actually it’s King IN the Nether.” Deadbones muttered and went about putting his hands in the right places, swapping the hand holding Roamin’s around and sliding that one to his upper back, holding his hand with the other. “There. Right?”

 

“Right.” Roamin nodded approvingly. “By your leave, my Lord.” He even waggled his eyebrows, getting a snort out of Deadbones and a squeeze of his hand in response.

 

To his surprise, Deadbones handled leading rather well, barely fumbling up the steps and guiding Roamin through the motions almost perfectly. The only stumble came when he went to spin Roamin and the paladin lord had to hesitate for a second before he ducked under the arm, their slight height difference throwing him for a second. Despite that, they made several circuits of the room before the record ended again and as the music came to an end, Deadbones surprised him once more. With a sly grin and a wink just before the final note, he shifted his grip on Roamin and moved suddenly, knocking Roamin off balance and into a dip that had him griping Deadbones’ hand and back tight.

 

Deadbones laughed as Roamin held him tight. “Relax Roamin, I won’t drop you. Promise.”

 

And quite suddenly Roamin had other issues to worry about instead of being dropped. Like the fact that Deadbones’ leg was between his, that they were much closer like this than when they had been dancing, that Deadbones was downright eating him alive with that hungry expression in his gleaming red eyes. _Aw fuck I wanna bang the King in the Nether_. His breathing quickened, noticeably. If he was lucky, Deadbones would think of it as merely exertion from dancing.

 

“I tire you out Roamin?” Deadbones all but leered down at him, a little tired himself from the dancing but not enough to breathe as fast as Roamin was. He used the hand splayed against the paladin’s back to pull him a little closer, practically chest to chest with him now. “Or you got something bothering you?” Sliding his thigh further between Roamin’s hadn’t really been part of his plan but hey, whatever worked right? And it certainly made Roamin turn an interesting shade of red and scramble to push him away. Deadbones let him go, though not before helping him upright again. He wasn’t so heartless as to just drop Roamin on the floor.

 

Roamin backed up and turned away, heading for the music player to flick up the handle and stop the music from repeating. He stood there, watching the record spinning for several long silent moments, focusing on breathing. _In…out…in…out…you don’t want to fuck Deadbones, it would just lead to terrible terrible places. Even if he really would look amazing screaming my – NO stop. Not allowed to be attracted to fellow Lords. Has to be a woman, there’s the whole lineage issue to deal with, even if I am functionally immortal._ He dared to glance back at Deadbones, who was taking a moment to fix his rolled up sleeves. They’d started to roll back down and he was tucking them back up neatly.

 

_…I’m gonna fuck him. Goddamnit. Heirs schmeirs, I’m gonna fuck the skull tattooed idiot. No one said I had to produce heirs any time soon, I could literally just-_

 

“Hey Roamin, I thought of something amazing, okay?”

 

Startled out of his thoughts, he blinked. “What?”

 

“I brought along another record for us to dance to, you wanna?” Deadbones winked at him again and he couldn’t help but feel like he was being plotted against.

 

“Sure…”

 

Deadbones took a few seconds to retrieve a record from his cloak, tucked away inside a handy inner pocket. He strolled casually over to the record player and switched out the disks, lowering the spindle down for the [music to begin](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=E3cVgaGS4ys).

 

It was a slow tune, one Roamin had never heard before nor much else like it. He gave Deadbones a confused look. “I don’t know this music.”

  
“That’s because it’s from where I’m from.” Deadbones replied with that grin of his, turning to Roamin and sliding into his personal space. He was much closer than the previous dance had required them to be and it made Roamin’s mouth a little dry. Deadbones resting his hands on his hips and tugging him closer didn’t help either, hip to hip, chest to chest, and Deadbones’ sly hands rubbing little circles through the material of his clothing.

 

“Deadbones,” he said warningly, even as his hands betrayed him and went to Deadbones’ shoulders.

 

“What?” He looked as innocent as a man with a skull tattooed on his face could look, red eyes and all. It turned to a wicked grin when he moved his hips against Roamin’s, his hands guiding the other to move with him. “It’s dancing. We do this all the time back home, and it’s very popular in the Netherward don’t you know.”

 

Roamin couldn’t even utter an answer, painfully aware of every inch of Deadbones pressed against him. He gripped Deadbones shoulders tight, unsure if this was even right but Deadbones didn’t seem to be arguing about hand placement, too concerned with trying to get him to move his hips properly. Each shift in position ground him against the other lord and sent arousal coursing through him. They didn’t move far from their initial starting position by the music player, and Roamin was valiantly trying not to give in to the urge to shove Deadbones against the desk it sat on and fuck him till he screamed.

 

Deadbones seemed determined to drive him to such a thing though, given the way he was smirking at Roamin and grinding ever harder against him. Roamin growled lowly, the sound escaping him unbidden. Deadbones just smirked and released him, turning away. Roamin blinking in surprise, hands gripping at thin air before he inhaled sharply in shock. Deadbones ground against him again, the curve of his ass firm against his steadily hardening cock. His hands dropped to Deadbones’ hips, keeping him close as he bucked his hips forwards again. This time he heard Deadbones moan lowly, and he dared to slide one hand around to his front, between the other’s legs, palm grinding down against the hardening length he felt there.

 

Deadbones moaned again, head falling back against Roamin’s shoulder. “You – you catching on yet?” He laughed breathlessly and Roamin groaned lowly, head falling till he could press his lips to Deadbones’ neck. “Mm…good.”

 

“You asshole,” Roamin muttered against his skin, his breath making Deadbones’ shiver. “You plan this whole thing?”

 

“Na- well, not all of it. Most of it. I still might fuck the Queen.” He turned to catch Roamin’s eye, smirking. “But I think I’d like to fuck you first.”

 


End file.
